Ant. You have been a boggler ever:

But when we in our viciousness grow hard,

(O misery on 't!) the wise gods seel1 our eyes;
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us
Adore our errors; laugh at us, while we strut
To our confusion.

Cle.

O, is it come to this?

Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon

Dead Cæsar's trencher. nay, you were a fragment Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours, Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have

Luxuriously pick'd out: for, I am sure,

Though you can guess what temperance should be, You know not what it is.

Cle.

Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And say,
God quit you!' be familiar with
My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal,
And plighter of high hearts!-O, that I were
Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar

The horned herd! for I have savage cause;
And to proclaim it civilly, were like

A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank

For being yare 2 about him.-Is he whipp'd?

Re-enter ATTENDANTS, with THYREUS.

1 Att. Soundly, my lord.

Ant.

Cried he, and begg'd he pardon?

1 Att. He did ask favor.

Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent

Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou

sorry

To follow Cæsar in his triumph, since

Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceforth,

The white hand of a lady fever thee;

Shake thou to look on 't. Get thee back to Cæsar;
Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou say,
He makes me angry with him; for he seems
Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was: he makes me angry;
And at this time most easy 'tis to do 't;
When my good stars, that were my former guides,
Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike
My speech, and what is done; tell him, he has
Hipparchus, my enfranchised bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like, to quit 1 me: urge it thou.
Hence with thy stripes; be gone. [Exit Thyreus.
Cle. Have you done yet?

Ant.

1

Alack, our terrene moon

Is now eclipsed; and it portends alone

The fall of Antony!

Cle.

I must stay his time.

Ant. To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes

1 Requite.

With one that ties his points? 1

Cle.

Not know me yet?

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me?
Cle.

Ah, dear, if I be so,

From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
And poison it in the source; and the first stone
Drop in my neck: as it determines, so

2

Dissolve my life; the next Cæsarion 3 smite :
Till, by degrees, the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
By the discandying of this pelleted storm,*
Lie graveless; till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!

Ant.

I am satisfied.
Cæsar sits down in Alexandria, where

I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy too

Have knit again, and fleet,5 threatening most sea

like.

Where hast thou been, my heart?-Dost thou hear,

lady?

If from the field I shall return once more
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
I and my sword will earn our chronicle.
There is hope in it yet.

Cle.

That's my brave lord!

1 With a menial attendant.

3 Her son by Julius Cæsar.

2 Dissolves.

By the melting of this storm consisting of bullets.

• Float.

Ant. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breathed, And fight maliciously: for when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of me for jests; but now, I'll set my teeth, And send to darkness all that stop me.-Come, Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me All my sad captains, fill our bowls; once more Let's mock the midnight bell.

Cle.

It is my birth-day:

I had thought, to have held it poor; but, since my

lord

Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant. We'll yet do well.

Cle. Call all his noble captains to my lord.

Ant. Do so; we 'll speak to them; and to-night

I'll force

The wine peep through their scars.

queen;

Come on, my

There's sap in 't yet. The next time I do fight,
I'll make death love me; for I will contend

Even with his pestilent scythe.

[Exeunt Antony, Cleopatra, and Attendants. Eno. Now he'll outstare the lightning.

furious,

1

To be

Is to be frighted out of fear: and in that mood,
The dove will peck the estridge; 1 and I see still,
A diminution in our captain's brain

Restores his heart.

When valor preys on reason,

1 Ostrich

It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
Some way to leave him.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Casar's camp at Alexandria.

Enter CESAR, reading a letter; AGRIPPA, MECENAS, and others.

Ca. He calls me boy; and chides, as he had

power

To beat me out of Egypt: my messenger

He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal

combat,

Cæsar to Antony: let the old ruffian know,

I have many other ways to die; meantime,

Laugh at his challenge.

Mec.

Cæsar must think,

When one so great begins to rage, he 's hunted
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
Make boot1 of his distraction: never anger
Made good guard for itself.

Let our best heads

Ca.
Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles
We mean to fight. Within our files there are
Of those that served Mark Antony but late,

Take advantage.